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ON ANGLING. 249 |
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The o\v]_bird flies, the shade-scene falls, And home, boys, home, the " night bell calls ; There, there to chaunt the festive strain, And drink old Isaac o'er again. Great Walton ! whose piscatory skill, Shall long a place in memory fill, Shall live for truth's glad tongue to say, " Success to angling night or day." |
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S O N G.
Now the finny brood united,
O'er the buoyant liquid sweep, Or, lost in wanton sport delighted, Plunge adowa the azure deep, Yielding to the wily plan Of the jolly fisherman.
Softly sweet the breeze is blowing,
Wand'ring streamlets swell the flood ; While with health and pleasure glowing, Jocund pastime yields us food ; Crowning gav the wily plan Of the jolly fisherman. |
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